Try as he might to hold out optimism, the belief that the Squallfang might come to her senses or the adventurers manage to somehow assuage her maternal rage, even Richter had to eventually admit the worst end to this encounter appeared the likeliest. Very few seemed interested in employing methods that avoided unnecessary ripping and tearing. Furthermore, the great beast herself clearly was suffering, for surely nothing other than an ailment led to such pitiful moans and the immense water loss. An awful prospect, unhatched children losing a parent.

Of course, if they never knew her, the loss likely wouldn't be felt. But perhaps he was wrong. Maybe some biological need would result in a deep sense of wrongness, their birth immediately followed by an unexplained hollowness. While no fearsome resident of Lacerta, he'd certainly experienced that once initial wonder at his own surroundings had faded away. It was a void he filled with answers to an unceasing deluge of questions and the pursuit of good company. Friendship and discovery replaced the immediate guidance of someone sharing a piece of his soul.

He couldn't prevent the death, but easing it might work. Struggling against the pain would prolong her passing, so his jumping paused to see if a paw could be brushed against her tail as it swung toward him once more. Ducking avoided a collision that would've catapulted him into the lagoon, but the risk worked out. Claw tips grazed the tough underside, and a brief silvery spark leapt between them. A reluctant executioner had struck his single and final blow.